Falling
by cope
Summary: The love of her life is falling, and she has fallen for him. Can she save them both and live happily ever after?


Falling

Written by: cope

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: HG/FW, GW/KB (mentioned but not in any detail)

Disclaimer: An amazing woman in England named Rowling created these characters and they are completely hers. However, I am exercising my privilege of furthering the characters to what I will think will happen in the future and putting them into situations that little kiddies should not read.

Notes: I hope you all enjoy this and I would really like feedback, whether it be good or bad. I'm not exactly experienced in writing sex scenes, having only written one before (seriously), but I have read some by other amazing authors and have drawn from how they write.

Falling (1?)

She watched him fall the many stories towards the ground. There was absolutely nothing she could do but lean on the banister that separated her body from the same fate and hope that he would somehow live to see the next day. She viewed his body rushing at the grass beneath the pitch headfirst, helpless to stop it.

He wore only the standard gear consisting of leather and large silver buckles keeping the pads on his arms and legs. There was nothing to protect his handsome face and head full of sun kissed hair.

Tears were pouring down her face silently, going unnoticed until they blurred her vision to the extent that he was just a blur hurling down, down, down. She would never be able to live if he died. The thought of it was enough to make her cry even harder. A life without Fred would be a life void of anything substantial. It would be a life not worth living.

They had been together ever since he started playing professionally for the Cannons three years ago. The first time that she had seen him in his uniform, she had to bring out a pair of sunglasses to cut down on the brightness. The orange of the jersey clashed horribly with his red hair and adorable freckles but to her, he was a god, a beacon of light in her life.

Nothing would ever be the same if there were no more Fred Weasley as the world knew it.

Suddenly, it was as if a bolt of lightening ran her body through. The realization that she was a fully grown witch, graduating at the top of her class at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and that she had her wand tucked neatly in her pocket almost knocked the breath out of her.

Quickly, she snatched if from her cloak and pointed it at the still falling love of her life. She would not be a casual bystander and let this crime happen. She would do anything, even if she had to die in exchange. With the proper wand swishes and the Latin words, Fred was saved in his decent to the field.

The whole three seconds that her actions took in their entirety, from the defeated feeling to her sense being restored, were the longest of her life.

When his body actually touched the grass, she left her seat and ran down the many flights of stairs that would lead her out onto the pitch. She had to reach him and see if she was able to save him, save herself. Running low on the breath she had seemed to be holding ever since she left her seat, she ran into the blockade of people who kept her separated from her love.

"Sorry, miss but the physicians need to look after the player who fell. There's no room for a groupie right now on the field."

"Excuse me!" She screamed, "I am not some Quiddich groupie. The player who fell is my boyfriend and he needs me. I need to go to him, so let me pass."

"Nice try miss, but no one is getting through me so they can throw their panties at the players. So, if you would kindly move, people need to get through."

She stomped her trainer-clad foot and turned on her heel. She had to find a way through the barrier that separated Fred from her.

Then, it was if someone up above had heard her silent prayers. There, across the corridor that connected to the pitch, was none other than George Weasley. The shock of red hair was a beacon of hope to her now. If anyone could get her to Fred, he could.

"George." She cried, her voice lifting above the gathering crowd and catching his ears. "George!" She hurriedly navigated her way past the many people and, with some difficulty, managed to safely get to his side. "They won't let me see him. The security guard called me a groupie too. Oh George, I'm so scared that he's hurt, or worse." By then, the tears were pouring freely down her face. The fear and worry that had built up finally snapped into two.

"Calm down Hermione. I just talked to his coach and she said he was going to be fine. There were a few broken bones and he has a concussion, but he's going to live. It was all because you were quick to react and cast that slowing spell on him while everyone just watched him. You saved his life."

Still, Hermione's tears ran down her cheeks, pooling at her chin until they dropped onto her jumper, which was actually an old one of Fred's with the letter 'F' knitted into it.

George saw that she was completely upset, so he gathered her into his arms, trying to comfort her until his brother could take his place. George's own wife, a blonde witch born Katie Bell, was one of the medi-witches treating his brother and she was keeping him updated.

"Come on," he said, "Let's get you in to see my clumsy brother so you can suffocate him instead of me." Finally, he was warranted with the slightest of smiles from Hermione, coupled with a deep sniff and a hiccup.

Moments later, they were in the team change room; somewhere that Hermione had been several times. She fondly remembered the times spent in the large communal showers with Fred after all of his team members had gone for the night. The flash of memories brought Hermione near to crying again wondering if she would ever have that chance with Fred again.

The two of them approached the curtained off portion of the room, where Fred was most definitely lying, and they quietly moved the white linen aside and walked in. There was Fred all right, flat on his back and wincing from the skele-grow that had just been administered. His face was becoming lovely shades of black and blue right before her eyes, the bruises were the type that would stay there for weeks unless they were magically healed. Fred's nose was visibly broken and there were long scratches on the right side of his body from head to hip. He looked like Frankenstein's monster but Hermione was never more relieved to see him and though he was completely gorgeous.

A small 'Oh' escaped Hermione's lips as she rushed to his side and gently took his hand into hers. More tears started to escape their usually well-guarded prison as she stroked his soft skin, clean from the medical staff, and she just looked as his battered state.

"Hey Beautiful." Fred managed to get out through the pain. "What are those tears for? You would think that I was dying or something." He cracked a small grimace, hoping that it looked somewhat like a smile. Leave it to him to make jokes in such a circumstance.

"Oh Fred." Was all Hermione said, a small smile gracing her lips briefly. She leaned down and kissed him lightly on his cheek, his lips were split and bleeding still.

"Some birthday present I got you, isn't it?" He asked, only to be rewarded with another kiss.

- - - - - - -

Several hours later, Fred was able to go home, transported by Floo since the effects of all the healing potions had not fully been completed and there was a slight worry that he would splinch if he tried to apparate by himself. He was left in the complete care of Hermione and was not to sleep for several hours to insure that the concussion had passed and he wouldn't be harmed further if he indeed fell into a well-needed sleep. Consequently, the medi-witches told Hermione to set a timer at home to make sure that a subsequent amount of time would pass before Fred was able to go to bed. They knew that he would be extremely tired, but he was otherwise healed.

So, to insure that Fred would indeed keep his eyes open until the timer on their small kitchen stove, Hermione had to come up with clever ways to keep him mentally stimulated. This, as it were, was proving to be a bit of a difficulty. See, all Fred wanted to do was, in fact, sleep. And Hermione couldn't really blame the poor red-haired man. He had played a long and hard game of Quiddich, the game lasting over six hours, and he had taken more than his fair share of beatings from the bludgers and the turf that he had flown over.

After almost two hours already spent trying to keep Fred awake, Hermione was just about ready to tear her hair out in great chunks. The constant complaining had lasted through a shared bubble bath, the tidying of their small flat, and the continuous stream of kisses that Hermione was giving him.

It was over chicken potpie that Hermione finally had enough. Fred had been whining the whole time about how he was too tired to chew, all the while shoving mouthful after mouthful into his sensually large mouth.

"Hermione," He whined, "I want to sleep. Can I not eat after I sleep for just a few minutes? Please? I promise that nothing bad will happen to me, I swear on your book thing. Just twenty minutes. I've had my fair share of concussions before and I know that I'm fine!"

Without answering him at all, Hermione stood from the personable two-seater table and walked towards the sink. She turned on the tap and sunk her dishes into the warm water that was filling the large basin, waiting for the moment that Fred would open his mouth to complain again.

She didn't have to wait long.

"Hermione, my back hurts. Can you rub it for me? I would feel so much-" Fred was then sputtering the remainder of his thoughts into the spray of water that was hitting him square in the face.

Hermione stood a few feet away from his left shoulder, nozzle in hand, and the trigger held firmly down. The hose from the sink was stretched to its limit and she wished that it would go further so that she could drench his entire body. "Bad boy." She said to him, the sexual passion dripping from her full lips. "No more unnecessary complaining."

"I am so going to get you back for that love." Growled Fred, his arousal showing clear through his naturally low voice.

He pushed back his chair, making the wooden legs scratch on the linoleum flooring, and stalked towards Hermione. His eyes reflected his natural need for mischief and there was that sparkle in them that he always got when he was coiled tighter than a boa constrictor around its prey. There was no evidence of pain on his face, or in his gait. Her speculations had just been proven that he was playing up his situation to the fullest. The evidence was soon pushed upon her and the just came back with a verdict of guilty.

Hermione quickly fled from their kitchen, darting around the outstretched arms of Fred, and ran into their cozy living room. She squeezed her petite body into the space between the wall and the bookcase, which was obscured from view from the large palm tree she had insisted they buy to make their home seem more exotic.

Fred pursued with the arousal evident in his eyes, flashing across his face. He would have his revenge, even though he knew that he had deserved it with his extra whining. He would have never admitted that to Hermione though. It went against his very nature as a man, especially a man who wanted attention from the woman he loved.

"Come out Hermione from wherever you are hiding. You know that I'll find you wherever you managed to shove yourself." He walked into the room, not noticing that Hermione was where she was. In fact, he was unable to see anywhere she could have hidden in the short amount of time that she had. The only way to locate her would to make her speak of laugh. The former seemed to be the easiest to accomplish. "With your ass it's amazing that you were even able to fit anywhere to hide!"

Yes, it was a low blow, but it was the only way for Fred to not seem like a complete moron.

There was an audible gasp from where he just came from, but before Fred could turn in that direction, he was tackled by a ferocious looking Hermione and fell into the comfortable couch with her on top of him.

"I do not have a large but Frederick Weasley. How dare you say otherwise." She screeched, the anger mingling with the playfulness of the whole situation and the insecurity that he may be right peeking through the cracks of her exterior.

There was a loud laugh from the redheaded man beneath her and his arms snaked around her to pull her even closer to him as they lay down on the loveseat so that their legs were dangling over the side of the one arm. "I win love." He said. The realization of what he did now known to Hermione. "Now, I do believe that we are even."

"Not even close." Whispered Hermione, almost inaudible, as she rested her head onto Fred's broad, muscular chest and started to trail her fingers lightly up and down his biceps.

They stayed like that for a while, running their hands over the other person's body and being comfortable. Fred was only able to feel Hermione, not any of his healed injuries that left the bruises that marred his freckled skin. In fact, it was only the feeling of Hermione against him the kept Fred from drifting off to sleep from the warmth and comfort that surrounded him.

Hermione could feel Fred relaxing as well and, though she thought nothing of it at first, it soon dawned on her that she was falling asleep in his arms. And, if she was falling asleep, he probably was too. That was something that could not happen yet.

Subtly, she applied more pressure into her strokes of hands on his body and she started to trail them down his body, altering the intensity of the caresses. She could feel Fred's body respond to her ministrations, the hardening against her lower abdomen a sure sign.

When she heard a small moan from Fred, Hermione raised her head and looked his square in the eye. The lust was evident and the need was overpowering. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you aren't I?"


End file.
